Stars, Stripes, and Apologies
by Midna3452
Summary: It's July 4th again- aka England's least favorite day of the year. He was all set up to spent a quiet day at home, when an unwanted visitor brings unexpected-and rather surprising-news about a certain blonde-haired, glasses-wearing Nation...Has the great Hero America traveled all the way across the water to apologize? Or is England skepticism of this news for good reason?


**A/N: Hey, everyone! This is my first _Hetalia-_only story! I got this idea whilst in the middle of a power outtage around July 4th...I'm not going to say much here except that I hope you all enjoy it! There will be translations at the bottom for France, since he uses a lot of French words/phrases.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the idea.**

**Stars, Stripes, and Apologies**

**Part One**

July fourth. My least favorite day of the year. The day that America, whom I'd taken the liberty- pardon the phrase- of raising all on my own, had decided to rebel against me and declare his independence. Even though it was over two centuries ago that that _twat_ had left me kneeling in the middle of a muddy field, rain soaking through my clothes and coming down so hard I thought it might drown me, I still haven't fully gotten over that horrible day.

Every year on July fourth, I lock myself inside my house and sit idly on the couch, recalling with a pang of hurt and anger in my heart the look in America's eyes when he proclaimed that he was finally free from my tight control. I'm sure by now the other Nations know the cause of my "mysterious illness" that I only seem to get one day a year, but they at least had the decency not to say anything. Except America, of course, who usually called to gloat. Bloody git…

Yes, every year was the same old thing. Put me in quite a sour mood, that day did. That is, until _this _year. This year was a bit different…

* * *

It was early afternoon. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, alone. My fairies and Uni had just tried to comfort me (once again), but I told them as politely as I could that I didn't want any company at the moment. They had left whilst shooting me concerned glances over their shoulders. I was just about to rouse myself out of my melancholy for a nice cup of tea, when the doorbell rang. Wondering who in their right mind would come calling at _my_ house today, I walked over to the front door. I peered out the peephole and was greeted by the very unwelcome sight of France on my doorstep.

"Oh, bloody hell…," I muttered disgustedly as he winked and blew a kiss at me through the door. It was all I could do not to gag at the sight of that pervert.

"Good afternoon, _Anglettere!"_ France said in a sing-song voice. "I have some over to get you out of your little slump!"

"Are you touched in the head?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. "Everyone knows that I _don't_ want to be bothered today, lease of all by _you!"_

Ah, but that is precisely why I am here, _mon petit chou!"_ I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily; why did I get the feeling he wasn't going to go away anytime soon?

"Look, I don't need any help, or comfort, or advice, or whatever the hell you came here to do," I spat, glaring as hard as I could through the peephole. "I just want to make a nice cup of tea, sit on my nice, comfy couch, and be left _alone._"

"But _Angleterre,_ you need to stop doing this," France said, sounding concerned. I wasn't buying it; as far as I knew, the Frog had never worried about me a day in his life. "It's not healthy to stay all cooped up inside _brooding_ like this; you need to get over what happened so long ago _sometime._" I glared at him again.

"Frog, this might be hard for you to understand, but it's not as simple as just saying: 'Right-o, I'm just going to forget all the pain and the cold and the betrayal and it'll be just _dandy!_'" Suddenly, I realized that I was unintentionally divulging my innermost feelings to _France,_ of all people… I quickly snapped back to my senses. "And why the hell am I telling _you_ this? Get out of here!"

"Oh, it seems as if you need someone to talk to," France said, grinning and reaching for the doorknob.

"No, I don't, and _get your hand away from that door handle!_" I quickly checked to make sure the locks on the door were secure as France frantically started trying to turn the knob. For good measure, I dead-bolted the door as well.

"_Anglettere-"_

"Go home!" I yelled, kicking the door in annoyance and as a warning that I was not to be messed with. Then, assured that there was no way he could get in since all the windows were locked as well, I left France at the door and headed for the kitchen. I put on the kettle and measured out a tablespoon of Earl Grey tea leaves. As I placed my cup on the counter and waited for the water to boil, I heaved a sigh.

"England! Are you feeling alright?" Suddenly, a high-pitched voice came from my right. I whipped my head up and grinned.

"Flying Mint Bunny!" I exclaimed happily. Flying Mint Bunny is the closest of my magical friends. That cute little ball of green fluff always seems to pop up just when I need him the most. I have a special spot in my heart for him (and no offense to any of my other magical friends who might be reading this- you know that I, of course, love you all just as dearly!).

"You seemed upset, so I wanted to come and see you!" Flying Mint Bunny said as I scooped him into my arms for a brief hug. I released him and at that moment the tea kettle whistled. I started pouring the boiling water into my cup as I talked.

"Oh, I'm alright," I said without much conviction. "This just hasn't been the best day so far-"

"Oh _Anglettere_~!" came the unmistakable voice of France as I suddenly heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

I groaned. "And it just got a _lot_ worse…" I turned around just as the stupid Frog entered the room. "France, how the hell did you get into my house?"

"Oh hon hon, you think I don't know how to pick a lock?" he retorted, winking. I clenched my teeth as he sauntered over to me.

"Get off!" I yelled, slamming my hand down on the counter as he tried to put his arm around my shoulders. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that I was still holding onto the now freshly-brewed cup of tea, so the hot water promptly splashed all over myself and the French twat.

"_Ah! My beautiful clothes!_" he screeched as I growled in frustration. Now I had _another_ outfit to go in the wash…

"Oh no, England, are you okay?" Flying Mint Bunny asked, hovering around me worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine…," I muttered, placing the (sadly) unneeded cup in the sink and pulling off my green vest. I stopped there because with France in the room, well, it's not the best idea to start taking off your clothes…

"Stop talking to your non-existent friend and get me a new set of clothes!" said nation was currently yelling agitatedly.

"He _does_ exist!" I spat back as Flying Mint Bunny crossed his stubby arms and made an offended sound. "And go home and get your _own_ damn clothes!"

"But that is a long way from here!" France whined. Obviously not the most mature bloke on Earth… I occasionally have to question just how old he really is, since most of the time he acts like a bratty teenager, or something very similar at the least. "Besides, I'm already here! So go and get me some new clothes before I go and find them myself!"

I knew that he was being serious. Since I didn't want him rummaging through all my garments, I reluctantly went to my room and grabbed an outfit for him. I tried to find my least favorite one, since I'd probably just end up burning it later. Once France has gotten a hold of any of your possessions, it's generally a good idea _not_ to want them back; you never know _what_ the Frog gets up to when you're not there…nor should you want to, I'm sure.

I ran back into the kitchen, threw the outfit at him, and ran back to my room to get changed myself. When I came out, France had moved to my sitting room and Flying Mint Bunny was nowhere to be found (which wasn't entirely unexpected; he gets offended quite easily and will often disappear without any warning).

"_Anglettere,_ you really have _no_ sense of style, do you?" France said, looking at his outfit (a dark blue sweater over a white shirt and black slacks) like there were bugs crawling all over it. I also noticed with a flash of anger that he was sitting in my favorite spot on the couch. It was ideal for catching the rays of the sun as I was reading throughout the day.

"_Move,_" I commanded, but France merely raised one eyebrow at me.

"_Excuse-moi?" _he questioned, but I was in no mood to play games. The day was starting to take its toll on me, especially as it got closer to three o'clock in the afternoon. That was the exact time America had walked away and left me in the field, and it was always my lowest point of the day.

"I _said_ get your perverted ass off of my couch _this instant,_" I reiterated. France could tell that I wasn't joking. For once in his life, he did the smart thing and listened to me. I sat down in my spot as he moved to the seat beside me.

"My, my, you are in _quite_ the mood today," he commented. I glared at him with all the harshness I could muster.

"_No,_ what _possibly_ gave you that idea?" I responded sourly, my tone dripping with sarcasm. France clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"And such an attitude as well. _Mon petit chou,_ this is not like you."

"Oh, bugger off." He knew full well the reason I was in such a state. I had no desire to explain it to him again, either.

"Well, I came here to lift your spirits!" France grinned cheerfully. I matched this with an equally intense look of un-amusement.

"And just how are you going to do _that?_" I questioned, becoming very suspicious. Since when did France care about my _feelings?_ All he was concerned about was annoying the hell out of me. At least that's how it seemed.

"Actually… I'm more like the messenger," he said, and my forehead wrinkled in confusion. What the hell was he going on about?

"I was supposed to… prepare you for his arrival," France continued. "I still owed him a favor for saving me that one time, so…"

"Owed _who_ a favor?" I asked. France put a finger to his lips and smiled.

"I can't tell you that, _Anglettere._ You'll just have to see when he gets here!"

I pressed my lips together tightly in frustration.

"Git…," I mumbled under my breath. France laughed.

"Now, now, let's not have any bad language, _oui?_ But you have to promise me one thing." He placed a hand on my shoulder, which I quickly shoved off. "Promise me you will not be angry when he shows up."

"I don't want _anyone_ to show up in the _first_ place!" I snapped. "Tell whoever it is to go home!"

"But he has traveled so far-"

"I don't care! Just tell him- wait a second…" I paused as a horrible realization struck me. I looked at France with eyes full of fire. I'd like everyone to note that he cowered (a bit) under my gaze.

"It's _him_, isn't it?" I questioned. France bit his lip and stared at me warily, waiting for my reaction. "America's coming, isn't he?"

France nodded.

I was _furious._ How _dare_ that blonde, glasses-wearing toss-pot think he would be welcome in my household on today of all days? I wasn't going to have it.

"You can go and tell that bloody wanker to take the next flight home!" I screamed, standing up and clenching my fists so hard I could feel my nails leaving impressions on my palms. France held up his hands as a gesture of peace, but I ignored it. "I can't _believe_ him!"

"Ah, he knew you would be mad, _Anglettere,_ so that is why he sent me," France tried to explain. I turned my murderous gaze on him and he visibly paled. "Uh, he wanted me to calm you down-"

"He thought that _you_ would be able to calm me down?" I laughed derisively. "What an _idiot!_"

"Only because I've known you for so long-"

"So has he! He could've just come here himself… Wait, no, he shouldn't come here at all!"

"He… he is already on his way…" By this point, France seemed quite flustered by my temper. Of course, he'd seen me angry many times before, but usually that anger was directed towards him. It was strange that today it was pointed at someone else for a change.

"If that hamburger-eating wanker comes near me today, so help me, I'll-"

"_Anglettere!"_ France cut me off. I shot him another fierce glare, but instead of backing down, he got to his feet and placed his hands on my shoulders. "I think America wants to apologize."

I stared at him blankly for a moment, processing what he'd just said. America suddenly coming to apologize for the Revolution? Pfft, yeah right! That was equivalent to me suddenly deciding to give up tea for no apparent reason. In other words, _highly unlikely._

"Nice try, Frog, but I highly doubt that America would make a trip all the way across the pond just to _apologize,_" I said, pushing France away. Amazingly, he didn't resist when I removed his hands from where they were gripping my shoulders.

"But that's what he told me!" France tried to counter, but I merely waved his words away.

"The he _lied_ to you, you idiot. Trust me, I know America better than anyone; he'd never go so far just to apologize."

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think…" I gave him a look that said: _Are you serious?_ Was he really trying to make it seem as if he knew more about America than I did? The Frog gazed calmly back at me.

"France, I _raised_ the boy- I think I have a pretty good idea of how he thinks," I said, extremely annoyed.

"The _Revolution_ sure took you by surprise, did it not?" France muttered under his breath. He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth when he realized he'd blurted that out loud. I let out a growl of fury, my temper reaching its limit.

"You did _not_ just say that, Frog…," I said coldly, my whole body tensing. That was a low blow, even for France.

"_Anglettere,_ I'm sorry!" he said quickly as I took a step towards him. His eyes widened as I grabbed the book I had been reading off of a nearby table. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows- a good sized book to knock someone out with. Maybe if I hit France over the head with it and left him outside on my doorstep, America would get the message that I didn't want to be bothered…

"H-hey, _mon ami,_ what are you going to do with that?" France asked warily, backing up towards the front door. Smart move, I must admit, already having an escape plan. But I guess for _France_ running away is a common occurrence, isn't it? Bloody Frog...

"Don't worry, it'll only hurt for a bit," I reassured him, grinning devilishly and holding the book over my head. I probably looked like a deranged lunatic by this point, but I didn't care. I just wanted the Frog out of my house so I could spend the rest of the day _alone._

France reached the door. He pressed his back against it as far as he could and tried to find the doorknob. However, I was soon standing right before him. Just as I raised the book over my head again and France covered his face to protect it from getting smashed… the doorbell rang.

"Hey, Iggy, you in there, dude?" said America loudly as I paused. I stared at him blankly as he peered through the peephole, his ice-blue eyes surveying the scene on the other side of the door. His eyes widened as he saw France cowering in front of me.

"Eh heh heh, _bonjour_, America…," France said, waving. America's gazed then turned to me, where I was still holding the book accusingly over my head, in a perfect position to smack France in the face with it.

"Iggy, what the _hell_ are you doing?" America asked, shaking his head in disbelief. He started to turn the doorknob, and for a second I thought with a twinge of relief that he wouldn't be able to get in. Then I recalled that France had somehow already undone the locks a little while before… and sure enough the door swung right open and America stepped into my house.

* * *

_Anglettere=_ England

_mon petit chou_= my little cabbage (a common French term of affection)

_Excuse-moi?=_ Excuse me?

_oui=_ yes

_mon ami=_ my friend

_bonjour=_ hello

**A/N: And there's Part 1! Please tell me what you think! Part 2 should be up in a little while!**


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